


Dickbabs Week 2017

by theragingstorm



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Introspection, Love, New Relationship, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Post-Crisis, Pregnancy, Romance, Slice of Life, but knowing me it’s gonna get sappy real quick, look i’m gonna try to write some serious character studies, non-sexual nudity, there’s all sorts of stuff going on here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theragingstorm/pseuds/theragingstorm
Summary: Seven short stories, snapshots of a life, of personal moments, of a couple and their love.





	1. Delicate

**Author's Note:**

> I’m gonna do what I did during Oracle Week a few months ago, and post one chapter a day, per prompt. With luck, I’ll be able to finish everything on time again. Hope you’re all ready for some sappy stuff. 
> 
> Also, every chapter’ll be titled with a Taylor Swift song that I think suits it. Because I adore Taylor Swift. And because her love songs are pretty much exactly what I’m going for here.
> 
>  
> 
> Day 1: Trust

He hadn’t looked so peaceful in too many weeks.

Collapsed across her couch, he’d stumbled through her door an hour previously, weary to the bone from the nights in his new city. She’d quickly squared things away with Dinah and hung up, busying herself with preparing dinner and a cup of tea.

Too many years of Alfred’s influence. All that time with Bruce, so many instances of pain and fear, a cup of tea had seemed to take the worst out of nearly anything.

The sun began to fall outside her window as the kettle whistled, the streaks of vivid saffron fading into rich orange and magenta, seeming even more saturated through the thin layer of slate-colored smog. Barbara carefully extracted her favorite mug, the Wonder Woman one she’d actually once served Diana coffee in, and poured the boiling water through the teabag.

Steam fogged up her glasses.

From the living room, the sound of the television blared. Some sitcom, she wasn’t sure which. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Dick wasn’t laughing along, or protesting loudly at the characters’ mistakes, or otherwise filling the Clock Tower with his usual chatter.

She turned the stove down to low so her sauce wouldn’t burn, then added the amount of cream and sugar to the tea that she knew he preferred, before rolling into the living room.

He wasn’t injured at least, just tired. Hadn’t even bothered to change out of his Nightwing uniform. He sprawled bonelessly across her couch, staring at the TV, a faraway expression across his face — god, he’d gotten so handsome.

Not the point, not the point; her heart seemed to hammer.

But he stirred at the sound of her wheels, snapping out of whatever reverie he’d been in. He looked up over the couch, smiling as his gaze met hers.

Her pounding heart slowed to a steady beat, spreading warmth through her chest with every pulse.

Barbara silently cursed herself for feeling like that.

“The pasta won’t be ready for another half an hour,” she informed him, rolling closer, clutching the mug like a lifeline. “But I — I made you some Earl Grey. The way you like it.” Her fingers trembled slightly as the tea was exchanged, and his hand touched hers.

“You sure?” There was a slight teasing note in his voice; his brow cocked slightly. But the smile didn’t go away. “I have pretty specific preferences.”

“I’ve known you for nearly a decade; that’s a lot of time to memorize how you like your tea. Even if I didn’t have a perfect memory.” She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly at him.

“It isn’t just about the tea, Babs.”

Her pulse tripped.

“I mean, um, thanks for having me over. It’s nice having a place I can go; my new one-room apartment’s still kinda lonely.”

“And I know things between you and Bruce could be better, to say the least.” She sat there for a moment as he took a few small sips. “But seriously? No lady callers? Or gentleman callers, for that matter?”

“Not since Kori.” He removed the teabag, remembering to toss it at the nearest trash can and not get water stains on her coffee table.

“But it’s been over a year.”

“I can go without dating and sex, it’s not exactly like I need it to survive.” He chuckled slightly. “Unlike your spaghetti.”

Barbara ducked her head, smiling at the compliment, but then frowned again.

“Dick, if you’re still not over Kori, I’m worried. I know how much you loved her, but it’s not healthy to linger on someone so long like that —”

He hauled himself up until he was sitting against the back of the couch, eye to eye with her.

“It’s not her I’ve been lingering on lately.”

She met his bright blue gaze, realizing.

Her chest seemed to fill up with pure liquid heat.

“I like you, Barbara. I like you a lot. Just like I did when I was a kid. I think...” He swallowed hard. “I think I might be falling in love with you.” He took a deep breath, then blinked slowly.

Had his eyelashes always been so long? They just about brushed his cheekbones, thick and dark as a girl’s. And his hair; he’d finally gotten rid of those godawful cuts and his hair was soft, just long enough to brush his jaw.

Barbara realized that her hands were shaking against her armrests.

“Dick, I can’t.”

“Barbara...”

She turned away and left the room, trying not to think about how confused and upset he must’ve looked.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was painfully quiet.

He ate her spaghetti with his usual enthusiasm at least, but still didn’t talk. Barbara, for her part, poked at her food, unable to look him in the eyes.

It wasn’t until she was digging around in her freezer for some ice cream that he finally snapped.

“Damn it Barbara, don’t ignore me. I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way —”

A lie, and they both knew it.

“— but you can’t pretend that I don’t.”

She wheeled around to face him.

“Giving myself time to process this isn’t ignoring you.”

“Running away from me and not talking to me? I don’t know how you define it, but it feels a lot like ignoring.”

“Damn it, I —” She lifted her hands, running them through her hair. “Dick, you’re one of my best friends. I can’t lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

His hands unclenched, his angry expression making way for confusion.

“Are you scared I’m going to leave you? That if we were to — theoretically — be a couple —”

She took a deep breath.

“Partially. I have no idea what would happen if we were to — theoretically — be a couple. I don’t know if it would work out. Or worse, if it would. And that — that’s what scares me.” She shuddered slightly, running her hands up her arms.

He got to his feet, walking over to her. Above them, the yellow-white kitchen light flickered, seeming brighter than it was in the blue of dusk.

“Remember when we went to the circus a little while ago? When we flew together, up on the trapeze? You trusted me and yourself then.”

“I’m risking something different than my physical safety here, Dick.”

“I know, you’re risking your heart. And that’s a lot worse, I promise you.”

“Not very comforting.”

He laughed slightly.

“No, but it’s true. I’m not gonna lie to you.”

“You never have.”

The circus, the acrobatics. A lesson in trust, in falling.

In flying.

It wasn’t exactly like she hadn’t noticed her own feelings.

“Can you give me some time? I don’t want to rush into anything, at least.”

She was genuinely surprised when he broke into a smile.

“Yes. Yeah, I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.”

Good. Good. Very good.

She breathed out again.

But there was something more. Something she needed to do...to prove that she could — did — trust him.

“Dick, can you come closer for a second?”

He bent down.

“What’s this all about —”

She summoned her courage and kissed him.

It wasn’t the best kiss she’d ever had. It was still a little shy, a little surprised, confused and unsure.

But for what it was? For where they were? It was a pretty damn good kiss.

And the look on his face when they pulled away made all those feelings worth it.


	2. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have midterms next week and the worst attention span in the world, so the tiredness and feeling overwhelmed might or might not be me projecting a little bit. But eh, the superheroes really have it worse. 
> 
> Day 2: Vulnerability

He peeled off his suit listlessly while the shower thundered on in the next room.

Morning had come. It was time to discard one uniform, and put on another. The job never stopped.

He loved his work, he had chosen this life, but...

It was a cold morning, and his scars ached. One of the old stab wounds in his thigh, courtesy of Harley Quinn with an unusually sharp pink glitter pen, throbbed as he slid off his pants.

Dick hissed in pain and fell back onto Barbara’s bed.

He’d come to her home the previous night after she’d called him over, both of them hoping for a free moment to have sex...that is, until situations in Bludhaven and Lisbon, respectively, had come to their attention. Neither of them had gotten sleep _or_ sex that night.

He lay on her bed naked and stared at the ceiling, observing a small crack across the pristine blue paint. The Outsiders, the police department, the Titans, the city, the rest of the family, it was all wearing on him. He wanted to collapse into her sheets and sleep the day away, but so much needed his efforts.

Dick was about to get up when Barbara rolled out of the bathroom. Her beautiful hair was still damp from the shower, brilliant eyes shadowed with purple. Her towel was discarded to the floor, and, not for the first or even twentieth time, he took in her body.

Her fair skin, atop the curves and firm muscle, was mapped with twisting scars. The pale markings weren’t as obvious on her skin as on his, but he still knew each one. He’d been there for many of them, after all.

“Do you want me to call you in sick?” she asked, wringing out her hair. “No offense, but you look like hell.”

“None taken.” He groaned up to a sitting position. “But no, I have cases to work. They’re expecting me. And if anyone should rest, it’s you. From what I heard, Lisbon was a real bitch of a job.”

Something flickered in Barbara’s eyes.

“Dinah — Black Canary handled it. Huntress may not trust me just yet, but she makes for good backup.” Her voice had taken on a falsely clinical tone. “It’s just another case, Dick.”

“It always is.” He realized to his horror that _his_ voice had broken; exhaustion and sorrow seeping through.

Concern blossomed in her expression. She wheeled herself closer, hair spilling over her bare shoulders, before clambering onto the bed beside him. Not at all the way they’d intended the previous night.

Barbara cupped his jaw in her hands, their faces inches away.

“You’re not fine, are you?”

He dropped his head. One of her hands graced down over his neck and to his shoulder as he leaned into the other.

“Are _you?_ ” he echoed.

“Dick, it’s not about me right now —”

“You’re deflecting.” His voice was gentle. Deliberately so. He didn’t want to scare her into clamming up, he wanted her to feel better. To let it out, at least. “It’s more than just another case, huh?”

She was still for a few moments, before she sighed deeply and dropped her head.

Her hand unconsciously dropped down across her own chest and belly, coming to a rest near what looked like a cruel parody of a starburst across the left of her waist. Dick knew that the answering pucker, the end of the line, was on her back, crouching over her spine.

“I was so close to losing Dinah in Lisbon. Too close. And our Batgirl — Cassie — may have defeated Lady Shiva, but she’s still out there. Who knows if she’ll come back?”

“It never ends.” He wrapped his own arms around her back, and in answer, she dropped hers and clutched him like a lifeline. “It’s always a risk, and it’s always way too close. How have we survived it this long?”

“How have you held onto hope this long?” she replied softly.

“It’s difficult sometimes.”

Her skin was still slightly misted from the shower; cold water trickled down from her hair across his hand as he held on.

“I just don’t want to lose anyone again. I know it’s impossible, but I just want to hold onto them forever, never let them go.”

“I just want to hold everyone up, help them be what they need to be. Save everyone.”

Barbara nestled into his shoulder.

“But we can’t save everyone. Keep everyone. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Maybe not.” The words almost seemed to choke him.

“I can’t lose you.”

The sentence was almost imperceptible, it was so soft. In the last year, as he’d fallen further in love with her, as she’d summoned up the courage to risk her heart, as Alfred and Tim and Bruce and Steph and Cassie watched, as a drawer full of his clothes had manifested in her home, he had never doubted that she loved him back.

But hearing her actually say it had never failed to warm him, no matter how tired and sad and scared they both were.

“I’m not going to leave you. I love you.”

Maybe it was an impossible promise to make. But he meant it. He never wanted to leave her.

Barbara must’ve realized that.

“I love you too.” Her voice was louder now, which he took as encouragement.

“We’re gonna make it,” he promised again. “You can see that, right?”

She lifted her head; they pulled apart just enough to look each other in the eye, though not enough that their bare skin wasn’t still touching. Dick remained extremely aware of how she felt in his arms.

“Yeah. I can.”

Nearly a whole minute passed before they spoke again.

“...You know, I think we both need a break. I mean, since we’re already in bed...”

“Oh my god, you read my mind.”

They both made quick phone calls, him faking sick to his captain and her passing the computer reins to Tim for the day, before they both collapsed back under the covers.

“Let’s get some sleep.”

For nearly the remainder of the long, cold day, they did. Stealing each others’ blankets in their sleep, him alternately spooning her and his pillow, her accidentally hitting him in the face as she rolled over, they shared their warmth and company together. And together, they rested.


	3. Stay Stay Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I think I gave myself cavities writing this one. 
> 
> (The reference is to Brooklyn Nine-Nine, by the way. I couldn’t resist.)
> 
> Day 3: Domestic

As it turned out, her short break from physical work had, of course, turned out to involve checking in on a different sort of work. But fortunately, it didn’t need her efforts for any longer than the planned ten minutes.

“Alright, call me back if you need me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think we’re gonna need you. Especially not during spring cleaning day.”

“How’s the baby taking all that flurrying around?”

Barbara looked over her shoulder.

“Which one?”

Sunshine streamed through the open windows while bright pop music blared from sleek chrome speakers, bathing the interior of the Tower with energy and light. As the melody soared, the man on the other side of the living room slid the vacuum cleaner around the floor in time to the beat, crooning along to the woman singing about love. Sitting on the couch, the cushions freshly groomed free of dust, the small child in a Batman onesie giggled and clapped his hands at his father’s antics.

“Either.” The Birds of Prey sounded amused.

“Surprisingly well, actually. It’s very sweet.”

She found herself tapping her fingers along to the cheerful beat. In the golden light of mid-April, the gold and diamonds on her left hand sparkled and winked, casting tiny rainbows across her desk.

“Well, yeah, of course. You guys are so cute it’s disgusting. Can we single and/or childless people go back to punching, blood, and alien guts? That’s way more manageable.”

Barbara laughed.

“I’m hanging up. For real this time.”

“Good luck, honey.”

She took off her headset, setting her alerts, just in case. She doubted she would need them, though.

As she pushed the last button, she became aware of how close the vacuum cleaner — and the singing — was getting to her workspace.

“You don’t have the pitch for that song, Man Wonder.”

“Rude.” The vacuum turned off. “Very rude. I want a divorce.”

“But who would get custody of your family or the dog we agreed we’d get when John’s older?” Grinning playfully, she wheeled around to face him.

He, like her, was just in old jeans and a raggedy t-shirt he should’ve thrown out a year ago, covered with dust from going through the back of his closet and the corners of the Tower. There was a black spot of dirt on his nose, and his hair stuck up in every direction.

Affection welled up in her chest.

“You can have the girls and Jason, I’ll take Bruce and the rest of my brothers, we’ll share custody of Alfred, and Damian can have the dog.”

“Well, even though god knows Damian doesn’t need any more pets, when you make it sound so sensible...” Giving in to her feelings with no resistance, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.

“That’s what I do. But before you kick me out of the house, think we have time for one last —?”

“Not in front of the baby, you animal.”

“Right.” He settled for another kiss. “He’s too young for siblings yet.”

“ _Yet_ ,” she agreed, a joke, but also a promise.

Temporarily disentangling herself from him, she rolled across her home, taking in the efforts of the morning. On her balcony, the carpets draped themselves over the handrail, dust fluttering off in clouds in the wake of a chill breeze. The kitchen gleamed from her efforts scrubbing. The floor, of course, was spotless.

As she drew near the couch, her son grew excited by her presence, reaching out and babbling.

“Ma! Up, up!”

She did so, sweeping him up into her arms, feeling him squirm happily in her embrace. He smelled sweet, the way babies did; dark hair soft as feathers under her touch.

“You okay there, John?”

“Ye!”

“You want Mommy to get you some lunch?”

“Yes.”

“I could not have been more clearly talking to the child.”

“Perfect use of that reference,” Dick grinned, balancing his hands on his hips and not looking even slightly apologetic.

“What reference?” She shifted John into the crook of one arm. “Also, for that, now _you’re_ making lunch.”

“I can live with that.”

Barbara lightly swatted his ass with her free hand; he jumped and laughed, making his way into the kitchen still with a smile on his face. The playlist transitioned to another cheerful song as she settled in near the doorway. He started getting out ingredients for lunch, and she lifted the hem of her shirt so that the baby could eat too.

Although the weather was still fairly cold, between the unusual abundance of sun for Gotham and the warmth of the Tower, it could’ve been midwinter outside for all she was concerned.

“Dick, you forgot to turn the second burner on.”

“Ah damn it.” He quickly rectified his mistake. “Guess lunch’ll be an extra ten minutes.”

She rolled her eyes with faux exasperation, which he caught.

“Hey, hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me. For, oh, about...life.” He held up his hand to emphasize his point, grinning triumphantly as he did.

Their son finally detached himself, yawning and burbling sleepily. Barbara gently lifted him up again, meeting her husband’s gaze with her own.

“I can live with that,” she echoed. “I picked a good person to get stuck with.”

At that point, they’d known each other for a nearly a decade and a half, been together for a third of that time, were married, and had a child, but she could never get over how he still looked at her the exact same way every time she expressed her love. That look: _how did I get so lucky?_

Though to be honest, she sometimes asked herself the same question.

He took the first pan off the heat, still gazing at her.

“Out of curiosity, does this mean I can keep those old outfits I found in the back of the closet?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But —”

“I _cannot_ live with those pants and that polka-dot shirt. You’re throwing them out.”

“Not giving them to the poor?”

“The poor won’t want those.”

“Their loss.”

Between the food, the warmth, and the familiarity of his parents’ banter, the baby finally stopped squirming and settled down in his mother’s embrace, drifting off to sleep.

She softly pushed a tuft of black hair out of his face and settled back again, relaxing and joining back into the bright noise that was her home at peace. For that day at least, everything was okay.


	4. Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that gives this its M rating. It’s not explicit or anything, but there is definitely sexual stuff here. Proceed with caution, or eagerness, or whichever.
> 
> Day 4: Intimacy

Dick woke up late, refreshed, both of which were unusual.

Blinking sleep from his eyes, he registered the mid-morning light through the unfamiliar bedroom window, the soft white sheets on his bare skin, the lack of weariness in his limbs, and the scent of brewing coffee wafting into the room. In his freshly-woken state, he briefly wondered where he was and why he felt so good.

Then he remembered the previous night.

As he did, he relaxed back into the sea of pillows, grinning with satisfaction.

The standard run past Oracle’s headquarters, a check-in, that was all it had started out as. Then she’d asked him to stay for a couple hours, catch his breath. When no one else called in, the two of them remained alone together, talking, enjoying each other’s company, and, well, turned out the old phrase was accurate after all. One thing led to another.

He tugged the duvet a little further up over his exposed skin. Breathed in the lingering scent of her on the sheets, the residual heat on the side of the bed where she’d slept.

There was nothing, he decided, like having sex for the first time with one of your best friends. They knew and trusted each other better than almost anyone. But that had been a line they had danced around for a long time, as they had with romance in general.

He wondered if she knew how just glad he was that they’d crossed both those lines.

More memories flooded back as he grew more lucid. How her skin had felt against his touch, her heartbeat like a timpani that he’d been able to feel as their chests pressed together. The taste of her on his lips, the exquisiteness of hers and the strength of her hands, how hot and wet she’d felt around him.

He groaned softly as the memories began to catch up with him, with his body. He wondered briefly if he’d have time to duck into the shower and take care of it before Barbara came back...

The sound of wheels against the floor dashed that plan to shreds.

She was clearly in no hurry to start the day. Her glasses were slightly crooked, she was wearing only a loosely-tied bathrobe and her hair was still a mess, but he still caught her breath when she came into his sight.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” she said lightly. Balanced upon a tray in her lap, she carried two large mugs of coffee, steaming lightly, which only made him all the more happy to see her. “You doing alright? Accommodations okay?”

“Oh yeah.” He sat up, trying to discreetly fold his legs over his crotch. “Give my regards to the hostess.”

“I think she knows.” Her eyes sparkled as she rolled closer to him. She placed the mugs on the nightstand, hoisting herself out of the chair and shuffling into bed beside him.

Dick leaned against her; she snuggled in and tucked her head into his shoulder.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here, and both assume and hope you had as good a night as I did.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, but he caught the fact that she was still smiling to herself. “You’re certainly no slouch.”

“Hey, they didn’t call me the Boy Wonder for nothing. And neither do you, apparently,” he added cheekily.

Barbara poked him in the chest, but with no real heat behind it.

“Take the ego down a notch, Grayson. Or you’ll get carpal tunnel when you get the need later to go around bragging and high-fiving all your buddies.”

“Where do you think I work? A frat house?”

“You work with cops and superheroes, so...yes. Or, to be more accurate, I think you work in _two_ frat houses.”

“Alright, fair enough.” He shifted, still quietly willing his body to calm down. “But in all seriousness, I’m glad I got to be with you. And not just in the obvious meaning of the phrase.”

“Me too.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, looking up into his eyes. “...We’re, um, going to need to talk about this though. Do you want —”

“— To do it again eventually?” He nuzzled her hair. “Whenever you want to. You know how I feel about you —”

She blushed cherry.

“— and it doesn’t hurt that you’re gorgeous.”

Barbara ducked her head, her smile growing broader. Her hand slipped slightly.

“I could say the same thing about you,” she replied, shifting her hand to try and bring it back up to where it’d been. “I just meant, like, how much will this change things, or...” She trailed off. “Dick.”

“What?”

“No, I meant — why are you hard?”

Oh god.

He dragged his hand up his forehead and through his hair.

“I um...” There was no way he could make this _not_ embarrassing. “I was just, um...thinking about you.”

She drew back slightly, still looking at him.

“About last night,” he clarified. “I guess I love being close to you a little more than I can control.” He laughed awkwardly. “In um, any sense of it.”

She was quiet. For a few moments, he worried that he’d upset her, or disgusted her, or scared her off.

“Lie down on your side.”

“What?”

She looked him dead in the eyes.

“I’d like to do this again too. I mean...” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s kind of just another morning, so I can’t promise fireworks or anything, but just being here, still having you around...”

Dick couldn’t believe it.

“Who needs fireworks?” He kissed her.

“Or fresh breath, apparently.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She kissed him back, before wrinkling her nose slightly. “But next time we do this, you’re brushing your teeth first.”

“As long as there  _is_ a next time.”

 

* * *

 

His opinion on the matter was reaffirmed some time later; lying on his side with her bare back nestled up against his chest. Her skin pleasantly warm against his, her scars and callouses providing soft friction. He’d reached one hand over and taken hers, their fingers interlocked as he thrust gently.

There was also nothing else, Dick decided again, like having sex with someone you knew so well for the second time. Less to learn, but so, so much yet ahead.

Barbara cried out softly as they both finished. Neither moved, still pressed up against each other underneath her soft blankets.

“I think,” she murmured, a little breathless, “that...screw talking about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing that matters has changed. I mean, what matters is that I still have you, after all. My best friend.”

His heart stuttered slightly.

“Really? You think so? Cause, um...” He tried for a bad joke. “I don’t think best friends usually get to see each other’s butts.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” This time, he kept all traces of joking out of his voice. “I do know.”

She was quiet for a moment longer.”

“I also think that the coffee’s gone cold by now.”

He kissed her pale shoulder; heavy with muscle, tiger-striped with scars, and sprinkled liberally with cinnamon-colored freckles.

“Not like we’ve started the day yet, anyway.”

“At least not until there’s one of our regularly scheduled emergencies.” She squeezed his hand, snuggling in a little further. “But we’ve got time.”

He settled down too, quietly hoping to himself that they would indeed have time. Far more than he dared to vocalize just yet.


	5. Dancing With Our Hands Tied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that the next chapter will pick up a lighter attitude again. And be posted earlier in the day. 
> 
> Day 5: Injury

“I can’t believe this. All these years fighting major, big-league crime, and we spend our first afternoon off in forever fending off a scattered pack of muggers that jumped us in an alleyway.”

“Least we kicked their asses for them.”

“Yeah, after you got _literally_ stabbed in the back. Dick, what could you possibly have been thinking?”

“That I’m actually kind of relieved. At least it didn’t come from Jason this time.”

“Dear _god_.”

“Okay, fine, that was bad even for me.”

“You think? Go sit down, now.”

Barbara pushed herself across the foyer into the living room, grimacing every time she strained her left arm. The sleeve of her formerly favorite blouse torn; green fabric stained the color of old rust, a matching cut across her jaw.

But she pushed the minor pain aside, frantically rifling around in her belongings for her first-aid kit. She needed to fix up Dick’s wound, and to ensure that it hadn’t gone too deep.

As she kept searching, he sat down on her couch, peeling off his shirt. One of his eyes had been blackened by a mugger’s fist, and she saw him leave a slight smear of blood against the backrest.

She fumbled out the first aid kit, swiping antiseptic and bandages across her own wounds with practiced swiftness. She then wheeled around to the back of the couch, gesturing to him to lean forward.

The wound still oozed slightly. Little red drops coalesced at the edge of the slash; every several seconds, a droplet lazily stretched itself out and trickled down across the firm planes of muscle. The other edge of the wound, along with the older streams, had already solidified into delicate dark crusts, frozen rivers of blood.

The slash itself was fairly superficial, which made her sigh with relief.

“I told you, Babs,” he said, twisting his head around, “there’s nothing to worry about. I just got nicked.”

“You did in fact tell me.” She soaked a cotton swab with antiseptic. “And yet, I think there’s quite a bit to worry about —”

The stinging antiseptic met exposed flesh. He hissed through his teeth.

“— considering that I told you to get out of the way, and instead you threw yourself in the path of a man with a switchblade.” Barbara removed the swab. “I had Bruce-Willis-movie-wannabe handled, I don’t want you to put yourself at risk for me.”

She wiped up the tracks of congealed blood.

“It wasn’t anything like that,” he said hastily. His eyes were downcast, locks of silky black hair hanging across his face. “It’s not that I think you can’t protect yourself.”

“I know that.” Her hands, bandage between her fingers, an inch away from his skin, trembled.

“I just...couldn’t take the chance.”

“I know that.” The bandage pressed down, more firmly than necessary. “And that’s how I feel about you risking yourself.” She took his chin in her hand, turning his gaze back to hers. “I know, I sound like I’m overreacting, a control freak —”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Everyone else’s words,” she sighed. “Today it’s a mugger, tomorrow you throw yourself in front of an assassin or a psychotic villain or a monstrous soupçon of genetic experimentation again. Your jobs are so much more dangerous than mine, I worry about you all the time. And I worry even more because of that beautiful damn bleeding heart of yours.”

“My jobs are only physically more dangerous than yours,” he corrected. He sighed deeply, those eyes full of sympathy. The bruising around the one of them just made her heart clench again. “I can take the cut and the hit, Babs. I’ve had worse.”

“Doesn’t really make me feel any better.” Barbara caressed the side of his jaw with her fingers. “And say whatever you want, me risking you, risking the people I love...it doesn’t compare to what all of you risk every time.”

Dick was quiet. Something entered his eyes.

“You really worry about me, don’t you?” he said softly.

“You know that I do.”

Her other hand rested above the stab wound, almost gingerly, her strong fingers as soft as butterfly wings. Time stopped for a few moments, becoming liquid, as she checked, again, to make sure he hadn’t sustained anything worse than a bruise from any of those other blows.

He was unusually still as she did, still digesting her words.

“I’m scared too,” he said quietly, “but not for myself. I’m scared because I get a superficial wound on my back and it upsets you this much. Because I _have_ to protect people, but it’s my protecting them that gets me hurt, and that...that hurts them too, in a way. Hurts you.”

Her hand came away.

“Like I said.” Her voice had a little bit of sad irony in it. “Bleeding heart.”

She wheeled herself back around the couch, edging herself out of the chair and beside him.

“But I’m okay,” she soothed. “We’re both okay. Like you said, you just got nicked.”

He clutched her shoulder, careful to avoid jostling her wound, holding onto her like that for a little while.

Before he looked up at her through his eyelashes.

“Would I be pushing my luck if I asked you to give me a feel-better kiss?”

It was sudden, and so _typical_ , that she had to restrain a small laugh.

“Oh god.” A smile pushed itself through. “No. You would not.”

She leaned further in, she too careful to avoid either of their wounds, before pressing her lips to his cheek. She lingered for some time, as did the heat from his skin on her mouth.

“Now take several more of those, don’t strain your back — none of those flips of yours — for a few days, and call me in the morning.”

“Sure thing, Nurse Barbara.” He finally smiled. “Did I hear right? You said something about several more kisses?”

She gave him another one, quicker this time.

“And a night at the nurse’s house. Don’t get any ideas,” she added quickly, “you are going to _rest_ , and not worry about other people for a few hours.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a very bossy nurse?”

“Just you.”

“I must be very special.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, leaning back in. “Yeah. That’s the whole point.”

Every time, no matter how much it worried her, she understood better why he threw himself in harm’s way for her, an attempt to spare her some pain. After all, wouldn’t she do the exact same thing for him?


	6. Ours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I periodically asked myself while writing this: “Is this /too/ sappy, even by my and this fic’s standards?” The answer is yes, of course, not that it stopped me at all. 
> 
> Day 6: Sick

When Dick walked into the kitchen on a bright fall morning, the sky through the smog vivid blue and the trees scarlet-leaved, he was immediately greeted by the sight and sound of Barbara throwing up in a trash can.

He froze in the doorway as she retched loudly, her face obscured by the rim of the formerly-empty disposal, her hair hastily pulled back with clips.

“Oats. Why is it always oats?” she moaned. “I don’t even _eat_ oatmeal.”

He was suddenly no longer eager for breakfast.

“Are you okay?”

She lifted her head. To his relief, aside from the nausea, she seemed to be alright...even though she was leveling her patented _you-sound-so-stupid_ look at him.

“I haven’t been able to keep anything solid down since I woke up. This is it. I officially hate morning sickness.” She grabbed a paper towel and wiped her mouth, tossing that in the disposal too before stowing it back under the sink and falling back into her wheelchair. “Thank god I only have a couple more weeks left of this.”

Dick approached her, kneeling down until he was looking up at her.

“You’re doing amazing,” he promised. “Really.”

“I don’t feel amazing,” she sighed, pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes. “I feel like the time those little kids gave cookies to Batman, and Batgirl and Robin ate them without realizing that the kids had _made_ them.”

Dick’s stomach clenched at the memory.

“But I will admit.” She actually smiled slightly. “Those kids were terrible bakers, but they were so goddamn _cute_. I mean, they thought of Batman, and their little minds decided that the terror of the night needed cookies, of all things.”

“Oh my god, I know!” he exclaimed. “Remember how tiny their hands were? They were too tiny for the serving platters!”

“And they needed to use both of those hands to hold them because they were so weak!” She clapped her hands to her mouth.

“Don’t forget the tiniest boy who talked with a lisp.”

“Oh my god!” Her hands still clasped in delight, Barbara closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

Dick’s heart swelled as he looked at her. Cliched though it might have been, he was certain that fatigue and all, nausea and all, she had become even more beautiful in the last couple months.

“I’m gonna make some coffee and throw together some cereal,” he informed her, getting to his feet. “You want anything?”

“Pepto. And just water.” She opened her eyes and dropped her hands, although he noticed that she was still smiling a bit. “I think I’m going to have to wait until lunch for food. And real coffee, dear god, I’m going to have to wait half a year. I miss real coffee.”

An answering smile traced across his face; he bent down and kissed her forehead.

“Maybe you should go lie down while you wait.”

Barbara rolled her eyes.

“Dick, don’t be absurd. I’m pregnant, not incapacitated —”

“Exactly, you’re growing a whole human person inside you. That’s gonna take way more out of you than just being incapacitated. I should know, I get incapacitated all the time.”

“...Was that the part that was supposed to make me feel better?”

“No.” He gave her another kiss. “That part is where I wait on you all day while you rest.”

She relaxed again.

“You don’t have to wait on me.” She lifted her hand, tracing it along the line of his jaw. “But...maybe I should rest a while. At least until lunchtime. Maybe a little before that —”

“Barbara.”

“What? Hero work waits for no woman, you know that.” She lifted her head. “And god knows you can’t stop me.”

Affection welled up in his chest again.

“I know that too, believe me.”

“Of course you do. I wouldn’t be doing this with a man who didn’t know who I am and what I can do.”

“And who loved you for all of it,” he said quietly, smiling to himself, as she began to wheel herself out of the kitchen. He watched until she had made her way into the living room, before turning to the cupboard, pulling out the cereal and the paper filters.

It was still a little hard to believe. A little unexpected. Even after all the years with his siblings growing up at their sides, of their coaching and supporting other heroes, of being in love. He knew she was especially rattled, especially since it had taken her completely by surprise.

The milk and ground coffee beans made their way from the refrigerator into his hands, going through the motions, pouring into their respective places within the bowl and the filter. Outside the huge window, golden fall sunlight streamed through and the brilliant red leaves spiraled merrily in the pull of the wind.

He was happy.

Dick looked back to the living room, where she was lying on the couch, one hand resting over her still-flat abdomen.

And though he knew that it was hard work for her, he also knew that she was happy too.

He finished making his own breakfast, then left it waiting on the countertop while he grabbed a glass of water and the bottle of medicine.

She looked up and faced him as he walked over to her.

“Before you ask, yes, I do feel better. Ah, don’t deny it. You were gonna ask.”

“Hey, just thought I’d get a head start on the fussing,” he replied as she gulped the medicine. “It’s kinda gonna become my job to fuss.”

“And here I thought I already did that enough for two parents,” she joked, accepting the water.

“Eh, maybe, but you spread it out among more people.”

“Right, you have so little fussing to do. You only have to hover over your family, your friends, a couple teams, your precinct...”

“Point taken.”

Barbara sipped at her water, still not breaking eye contact. Her steady green gaze, fierce and brilliant, was softened with undeniable affection.

“If I’m going to rest...” she started to say, “do you think you could eat your breakfast and finish up your paperwork on the couch with me?”

He immediately grinned.

“Definitely. But only if we keep the TV on, and only if we can watch something with a hard R-rating.”

She laughed softly.

“Sure. Any specific reason why?”

“We’re gonna have a small child in the house in six months. I’m sure as hell not going to be watching that shit with the baby around.”

“Or swearing, I hope,” she quipped.

“Ooh, you got me.”

He got up just long enough to grab all of his belongings, before settling down next to her as she put on the _Game of Thrones_ episode they were up to.

“Hope you don’t mind if I periodically bring up the double standards in the way the women are portrayed. Because I’m gonna, and you don’t have a choice.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

He set his breakfast down on the coffee table, the opening title rolling across the screen, keeping one eye on his paperwork and the other on her.

Half a year for her to work harder, for them to prepare for the unpreparable. But, hard and unexpected as it was, he knew they could do it.


	7. This Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I’ve reached the end of another week. I’m honored to have contributed to this wonderful ship, and been able to show how much I love them, both individually and together. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who gave this a chance, to everyone on Tumblr who liked and shared it around, to everyone on here who kudos’ed and commented. I’m glad I was able to make you happy with my writing, and with providing more of this ship for you.
> 
> Day 7: Sparring

Opposing forces met with a crash.

Wood clattered against wood; muscles bunched and strained under the effort to win.

Barbara became very aware of how close Dick had become as he pushed her defense. His face inches from hers, blue eyes narrowed in determination, forehead shining with effort. Their escrima had met at chest-level; she could feel the strain of keeping him away in her entire upper body, the effort making her breath shaky as he pressed his entire body into his offense.

Neither were making any ground.

“You can’t keep this up forever, Babs,” he breathed, eyes sparking. More heat flushed to her skin.

“Neither can you,” she retorted, leaning in a tiny bit closer. His eyes widened slightly. “And unlike you...I’m not above playing dirty when I have to.”

In a flash, she leaned in all the way and kissed him.

He gasped slightly against her lips, kissing back, the pressure from his arms slacking.

Quickly as she’d gone in, she twisted her head back and shoved his arms to the side —

— knocking his escrima from his relaxed hands with one blow —

— then holding hers to his throat.

His eyes were wide with surprise, mouth slightly parted. She smirked triumphantly.

“Rule number one of battle: never let your opponent distract you,” she recited, quoting Bruce word for word from what he’d drilled into both their heads years ago. Then, she ad-libbed, “Though I think rule number one should be: never get into a fight with someone who knows you so well in the first place.”

“Alright, fair enough.” He threw up his hands, backing away slightly, a tiny smile of his own pulling at his lips as he picked up his own escrima. “Though I could say that you were cheating.”

“Nope.” Barbara cocked her head to the side. “You can’t be afraid to use all the tools at your disposal.”

“Including manipulating my weak male sensibilities.” He twirled his escrima between his fingers. “Poison Ivy been giving you lessons?”

“Yes, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do everything I say now.”

He paused.

“Everything?”

She nodded, still grinning.

“So what’s your first command, mistress?”

Barbara burst out laughing.

“Go take a shower. You’re gross.”

“Hey, you’re all sweaty too,” he protested, though his smile remained. “Um, mistress.”

“Well then, my next command is that I demand to join you in the shower.”

“Oh...oh, do I live to obey.”

 

* * *

 

It was nearly an hour before she was out and dried, shrugging into her pajamas and wheeling back to the training room. She found her escrima again, grabbing her polishing kit and beginning to zealously buff the new strike marks out of the wood.

“Let them say what they will about you,” she murmured, even though Dick couldn’t hear, “but you’re just about as stubborn as I am. Look at the pressure you put on these!”

Coppery curls of hair fell out of place, drifting and caressing her cheeks as she kept buffing, lost in thought. Wood powder covered her fingers until they looked nearly golden.

“Then again, maybe it’s a good thing you’re so stubborn. You’d never have gotten anywhere otherwise.”

She tucked her hair back behind her ears. Smears of the powder streaked her jawline, striking against her pale skin.

“Especially not with me.”

Barbara could only imagine how difficult it must’ve been. All together, it had been over a decade of nursing such powerful feelings, unable to fully act on them the way he wanted, and to a great degree that had been the fault of the object of those feelings.

She blew the powder off her fingers, and off the newly-smooth surface of the wood.

There was no denying it. She’d been afraid, afraid to face the fact that her own feelings were equally strong. It was easy to face your fears when you could turn the situation to your advantage, could take control and master what you were afraid of...

But she couldn’t control love. She couldn’t predict or plan for love. Love was the one true wild card.

“And so I hurt you.”

A small splinter caught itself in the palm of her hand. She grimaced, but not because of the physical pain.

“We’re both a mess, aren’t we though?” she said aloud. “Granted, we’re two of the better adjusted members of this crazy family, but still. Being a mess is just about a prerequisite for being a part of it.” She plucked the splinter out of her hand, carefully wiping down her weapons with a cloth. “Maybe that’s why you never let up. Because you saw my issues the way I see yours: worth it. Worth it, because they’re a part of _you_. And everything is worth it for you.”

So many memories made up all the years they’d known each other. Made up all that everything.

The relatively carefree days of their youth, of the city being their playground and them being the kids who owned it. The years apart, while she pursued her career and he integrated himself into life with the Titans. Both those things, everything that mattered to them at the time, fell apart, with the shooting and the breakups and the loss of a little brother. The people they accumulated over the years standing at their sides, becoming a part of their lives, their fears, everything else that stood silently in their minds when they considered each other.

So many losses. Including each other. Time and again.

But they kept picking themselves up, and chasing each other, always coming back eventually. Pursuing the mutual victory, the accomplishment of all that came with each other.

Barbara smiled to herself.

The physical pleasures that started with shy kisses and never stopped. The long nights, holding each other through hard missions and terrifying dreams. Inconvenient confessions of fear and affection. Contenders for each other’s hearts falling far too short. Supporting each other through beginnings and misplaced caution. Coming home after both good and bad days and falling into each other’s arms, still, after all those years.

Maybe he’d won the real victory, finally breaking down her walls and allowing her to face her fears of what she couldn’t control. But the way she saw it, unlike battle, there was no single winner. For though he was with her, she was with him too. And she couldn’t think of a single prize she’d rather have than this man’s heart.

The sound of knocking against the doorframe startled her out of her musing.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

She set down her escrima and her kit before turning around.

Dick reclined against the doorframe, his gaze trained on her. Her thoughts of him still at the forefront of her mind, she felt almost shy, brushing her hair back and blushing slightly.

“Well, here I am.”

They were both quiet for a moment.

“And um...I have a lot of work to get done tonight, but I can spare time for dinner with you.”

“Really? Your genius stuff can wait for little old me?”

He phrased it like a joke, but she answered seriously.

“Yes.” She rifled around in her pockets, digging out her cell phone. “What’re you in the mood for? Unless you have work that actually takes precedence, in which case —”

“Dinner in with you sounds great.” His eyes sparkling, he turned to go. “You know how crazy our lives are; I’m always grateful to get time with you.”

His footsteps faded away, but as she dialed the takeaway place, she could still see him down the hallway, bustling around the kitchen for silverware and plates.

She doubted things in their lives, and their minds, would ever be anywhere near ideal. But there was good too, some of which she’d had to hold on to, some of which had come back to her despite everything.

So maybe she couldn’t control everything. So maybe it would never be perfect.

Barbara still had her love. And in a life full of fighting, love was the most worth fighting for.


End file.
